Spinning in Windward Circles
by Purplewrlds
Summary: In the face of uncertainty and the rise of Voldemort, Harry Potter tries to survive his sixth year with people that he trusts; only to discover that he shares a newfound understanding with Draco Malfoy.


A few days before the match against Ravenclaw, Harry found himself walking to the Great Hall alone from the common room. Ron was throwing up yet again in their dormitory, and Hermione was visiting Professor Vector about a mistake she might have had on her Arithmancy test. As if out of habit, Harry made towards the seventh floor corridor, scanning the Marauder's map as he strolled. For a moment, he searched for Malfoy's name and couldn't find him. It led him to the assumption that he was in the room of Requirement, which did not show up on the map, until he saw the name he was looking for in the boy's bathroom on the floor below- accompanied by Moaning Myrtle.

It struck him oddly to find Malfoy not only alone, but with Moaning Myrtle. He didn't know why it bothered him or why he cared, but he was so absorbed by the unlikely pair and in his own thoughts that he slammed into a suit of armor. The loud crash brought him back to reality as he jumped backwards. After straightening his glasses, he turned red, hoping nobody saw him. He scrambled out of the scene before Flich or Mrs. Norris could suspect the scene.

Harry headed towards the marble staircase and along the passageway that lead him to Malfoy's location. Out of curiosity he couldn't ignore, he pressed an ear against the wooden door, not knowing what he would overhear. Surprised to catch nothing, he pushed the entry open before he even knew what he was doing.

His eyes fell on the boy he was looking for. Malfoy clutched both sides of the sink, his white-blond head bowed, his back to Harry. He searched for Draco's reflection in the mirror, but only made contact with himself. He cast his eyes to Malfoy when he heard the dripping voice of Moaning Myrtle.

"Don't," Myrtle's voice pleaded from one of the cubicles. "Don't… Tell me what's wrong… I can help you…" She sounded like she didn't know what to say to Malfoy, which Harry couldn't understand why. What could Malfoy had done that made Myrtle so helpless? Malfoy's voice sounded weak and strained when it came from the sink; he sounded heavy, as if someone were trying to stop him from speaking.

"No one can help me." Harry realized that Draco was shaking- it made Harry feel stuck out of horror, as if he couldn't move. "I can't do it… I can't… It won't work… and unless I do it soon… he says he'll kill me…"

It won't work… unless I do it soon… what did Malfoy mean? And then Harry realized with a shock that made something in his core drop to his shoes, eyes flaring, that Malfoy was crying- actually crying- and that his words had come out in short bursts because of it. Draco gasped and sputtered, staring at the sink. Harry watched Draco's eyes flutter to the cracked mirror between breaths and, with a great shock like lightning, they met eyes. Harry almost tripped over his breath at the sight of Draco Malfoy, his hair disheveled and run through. Tear tracks down his face, and pale, grey eyes that looked broken and looked so, so much worse than Harry ever imagined.

And he almost felt something tear inside of him when he met his eyes. He wondered what possibly could have made him cry- what affected Draco Malfoy the most, but before he could process what was happening, Malfoy pulled out his wand. As if on instinct, Harry drew his own. Malfoy cast a hex that missed him by barely an inch, and despite his internal protest, Harry fired one back, but Malfoy countered it. Harry watched Draco's pale, delicate hand raise his wand to fire another and felt a lurch in his chest when-

""No! No! Stop it!" Moaning Myrtle screamed, her voice echoing against the tiles and interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Stop! STOP!"He met Malfoy's eyes, ready to counter the hex Draco might cast on him. But in those eyes he saw Draco weaken, his eyes receding. Harry's eyes flickered to Draco's wand, unsure of his sudden weakness, and saw his shaking hand and white-knuckled clutch on his dark wand. His eyes flickered back to Draco's, who were still looking at Harry's, and it was as if the two understood each other. After years and years of fighting, it was finally as if he was seeing him for the first time.  
Draco Malfoy. Who was rather tall, but only slightly taller than Harry, with short, platinum hair that looked white in the evening sun through the window. Grey eyes that had haunted him more than he wanted to admit, good or bad. Slytherin tie loose around his neck, his shirt untucked and unpressed. He looked so different from the Malfoy he had always known, and it made him ache of something he couldn't identify. Harry felt acutely aware of his heart all the sudden, and its fast beating. He realized that perhaps, all these years he had been wrong. As if one look had changed everything for him. He wondered if Draco felt the same way. Harry's eyes were drawn from Draco's chiseled face as he watched the blond's wand lower. He matched in suit, holding his head up.

"No one can help me…" He wished he could help him. He wished he could understand. He wished he knew what had made him the way he was. He was surprised the most at why he wasn't questioning the way he felt. But somehow, he knew. The broken eyes he met were not evil.

"Who says he'll kill you?" Harry said quietly, unaware he even said it until he watched the words hang in the air between them.

"No one." Draco said, his words laced with soft submission. Harry knew he was lying, and he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer out of him.

"We both know it's not no one, Draco." Harry said again, without realizing. He silently cursed himself for being suddenly so impulsive. At his name, Draco's eyes softened. But he then pivoted towards the sink and bent his head over the basin. Harry knew he could've left, and he might have, but something pulled him towards Draco. He let his feet carry him forwards to the blond and leaned against the sink next to him, his back to the mirror. He peered at Draco without moving his head, at the hunched face and arched spine. Draco, assumably feeling Harry's gaze, rose from the sink. He stood with hands still clenched on the sink's edges, face turned towards Harry. The two met eyes again.

Harry couldn't explain anything that he was feeling when he looked into Draco's eyes, and he sure as hell wished he could. He had feelings that he didn't know existed stifled in his chest, and they suddenly awakened when he looked at Draco.

"I'm sorry." Draco said to him. He was looking down at his hand, clutched on the sink. He sounded as if the words came out of him before he realized it, but meant completely. Harry almost asked what he was sorry about, but then he understood it. He was sorry for the years of taunting. All the things they'd done to each other. He hadn't know Draco regretted that.

"I know." Harry said. Draco looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, too." And he was. He didn't mean the things he said or did. Mostly, he wasn't aware of how much it might've hurt.

A look of disbelief passed Draco's face. "You're not sorry. It was my fault. All of it."

"What makes you think that?"

He didn't answer. Draco almost looked as if he were going to cry again, either out of relief or shame. His head turned to the basin again.

Harry took his loss of an answer as a request to leave. He didn't want to, which he didn't hate to admit. It was the truth, something Harry didn't realize had been there for so long and was now aching to come out. He took his eyes from Draco and made way towards the door. He could deal with his thoughts and emotions later, when he had a handle on them. But right now, he knew he had to leave.

"Wait-" Draco said, his voice strong and echoing against the walls. Harry turned and saw Draco holding the side of the sink with one hand, standing and turned towards him. "Don't leave."

Harry felt his face softened and he smiled weakly at the blond, who shared a newfound understanding with him. "Okay."

He walked back to the sink next to Draco's, sliding to the floor and sitting with his head resting on the basin's edge. He didn't quite know what to say to him, or what Draco wanted to hear. And of fear of messing up or tripping over his words, he felt his face begin to turn red.

Distracting him, he watched Draco follow suit, sitting on the tile next to Harry with his head on the edge of the sink. His gaze found Harry's and smiled weakly at him; he then looked down. Harry couldn't help but notice how close they were- had they ever been that close before? How could he not remember? Draco still had the tracks of his tears on his face, but his eyes looked less sunken, and his face a bit lighter. Harry smiled for no reason at all, or at least one he couldn't identify, and spoke to him.

"Gryffindor has a match against Ravenclaw this week."


End file.
